i'll keep the storm if i can keep you
by miserella
Summary: Stuck inside during a snow storm, Gale and Madge find that a bottle of Jack, a little wine, and a few scented candles can go a long way. AU.


**AN: **So, this was for day two of the Gadge Week going on over on tumblr (the prompts being "lonely" and "holidays"), which was... yesterday. This is definitely late but I'm hoping that doesn't matter so much as I kind of let myself get carried away with this and let it become a full-fledged one shot. That way it actually works as I'm going to say this is the second installment of my holiday series following The First Thanksgiving, though they do not come from the same universe. One last note: this is unedited and I stayed up late writing most of it, so try to ignore any mistakes you find. Now, I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

* * *

"Okay, what's gotten into you?"

Madge knows she's all smiles, but she didn't think it'd be so obvious that even Katniss would pick up on it. She shrugs at her friend—nothing's gotten into her—but the wide grin on her face seems to say otherwise. Johanna rolls her eyes at the exchange and her drink sloshes over the sides of her glass when she gestures wildly at her.

"Tsk, tsk, Brainless, how could you forget?" She shakes her head. "Our little Madgelet here has a _visitor_ coming in—what? Two days now?"

When Johanna looks at her for confirmation, Madge nods. "Three days."

"Three days for what? What are we talking about?" Peeta asks as the boys join the table, dropping fresh drinks in front of Madge and Katniss and clutching their own. Peeta looks curiously between the three girls at the table, genuinely interested—of course he is, bless his heart—while Gale seems to zone out on the tabletop and Thom throws an arm around Jo, liking anything she might have to whisper in his ear more than the current conversation. Delly seems to eye the pair and Madge doesn't miss the reassuring hand Peeta places on her shoulder.

"Oh!" Katniss nods, remembering. "Your dad, right?"

"Your dad's coming for Christmas?" Peeta asks, sliding in beside his girlfriend. Katniss makes room for him and he gives her a thankful grin before turning back to Madge. "You must be so excited to see him."

Madge starts to express exactly how excited she is when she's stopped by Gale's input. "Of course she is. Wouldn't we all be?"

Normally, Gale doesn't direct much conversation towards her unless he's trying to provoke her, so Madge treads carefully. She eyes him warily but pastes a pleasant smile to her face. His gaze is still focused elsewhere, though, as he peels at the label on his beer bottle. "When's your family arriving, Gale?"

"They're not," he scoffs. His stony silver eyes flash towards her and she sighs out of irritation, realizing she's said something wrong again. She can never win with him; he's always directing some sort of anger at her, no matter how much kindness she shows him. "Not all of us can afford the luxury, Undersee. No, the Hawthornes will be singing out-of-tune Christmas carols over Skype this year."

Madge struggles to stay calm as he gives her another brief glance; it's one of near hatred and she knows she's gripping her glass a little too tightly but she might otherwise pummel him. Who is he to make her feel bad? He has _no idea_ what her life is like.

"Gale, I told you that you're welcome to come with us to the mountains over break," Katniss says through the uncomfortable tension. It helps Madge take a moment to breathe and she finds Delly looking at her clenched fist with wide, worried eyes. Releasing the hold on her vodka cran, Madge gives her friend a slight smile to say she's okay. She tunes back into the conversation, remembering that Katniss and Peeta and their respective families can't make the trip to meet each other either and instead are spending their break together in the mountain range a few hours away.

Gale just scowls like it's the worst idea he's ever heard, and it probably is. It almost makes Madge laugh to think of Gale third-wheeling it for two weeks in a small cabin with the pair that can't keep their hands of off one another. On that thought, she turns her gaze to Peeta and finds him scowling all the same. She has to hide a giggle and thinks she's calm enough to sit and ignore Gale all night until Johanna purrs, "I'll go if you go, Hawthorne."

It makes Madge want to strangle her—how could she flirt with the jerk right after he insulted her? At least Gale doesn't seem to be changing his mind on the offer despite Johanna's proposition. Not that it matters. It would actually help if Johanna could get Gale out of her hair for a little while.

"Is anyone else going to be sticking around?" Madge asks diplomatically, turning away from Gale at her end of the table.

"I'm going home with Thom," Delly explains. Well, Madge can support that—she knows Delly has her eye on Gale's best friend and that the two of them have some talking to do.

Madge looks towards Johanna and her friend shrugs. "Hawaii, remember?" Right. Johanna gets to soak up some sun with her family on the beaches of Maui while she'll have the pleasure of being stuck in the same city as the guy that hates her.

Sighing, Madge turns back to her drink and slurps loudly. When she chances a glance at Gale, she finds him smirking darkly at her. She knows if her mother was here she would berate her for it, but Madge rolls her eyes anyway and focuses on the idea that she doesn't have to see him or speak to him if she doesn't want to. Which she doesn't. It's his problem that he'll be all alone, not hers. She'll be too busy with her father, anyway.

…

As soon as she registers the sound of her phone ringing, Madge jumps up to get it, fumbling with the object out of excitement. Her father's probably calling to say he's about to board and that he'll call her once he's landed again but she's still eager to hear his voice.

"Madge, honey, I'm not going to make it—"

"What do you mean?"

Her father sighs uncomfortably through the line and she feels her heart drop. "I rescheduled the flight for later in the week, but I can't promise anything." His voice trembles and Madge grips the phone. "It's your mother—"

"What?" Madge squeaks. "Is she okay?"

"Yes, darling, she'll be fine. You know how it is." Madge can hear the stress and sadness in her father's tone and it makes her feel awful for the disappointment she feels at his news. They should have known this would never work; her mother hates being left alone. She shouldn't have gotten her hopes up. "I'll let you know what happens…"

"Promise to try your best?" Madge asks feebly, knowing that his best is never quite enough. Already, she starts preparing herself to spend the holidays alone.

"Promise," he replies, though he doesn't sound like has much confidence in it himself. "Now go have some fun with your friends and don't worry about us. You have a few more days without your old dad hanging around so take advantage of that, okay, Magpie?"

"Okay," she agrees—for his benefit. She doesn't see any sense in telling him that she doesn't have any friends around to have fun with; that'll just worry him more. From there the line sounds muffled for a moment and when her father returns he claims he's got to go. She tries not to sound too sad as they say their goodbyes but when they hang up, she drops on to the couch and stares at the blank TV screen.

"Looks like it's just you and me." Well, Netflix _and_ whatever leftover wine she can find in the apartment…

…

She plows through the first season of Scandal and a bottle of (Delly's) Merlot on the first day. The second day she goes on a baking spree and ends up with six dozen different cookies. They all greatly pale in comparison to everything Peeta's ever made, so she gives up on that by the third day, on which she attempts knitting a scarf using Katniss' needles that she left behind. It comes apart when she tries to finish it off, which is fine, because it looked useless anyway.

On the fourth day she doesn't get out of bed until noon and wonders how she can be so untalented. That same day she gets a call from her father who says he has to push his flight back another few days, giving them only a week together. She can't possibly go another day on her own, doing nothing in the confines of her home, so she calls around to see if anyone else she knows is still in town. There's the hipster guy who takes a bunch of classes with her, but he's always flirting while turning his nose up at her and she really isn't into that, so… She finds herself back at square one.

Madge (3:24pm):  
_Ate a third of the cookies. Marvel is the only one who will talk to me. I'm wearing the same pajamas as yesterday._

Madge (3:24pm):  
_And now they're saying there's going to be a snow storm. I'll be sending a document regarding my funeral arrangements shortly._

She knows she's probably bothering the hell out of her friend on her romantic winter getaway, but this is as much social interaction as she's going to get and the only way she's finding any amusement out of this situation. She's actually kind of worried about that snow storm and her impending death. Bad sugar cookies and old wine is not a diet she thinks will get her very far.

Katniss (3:32pm):  
_You. Are. Crazy. Go outside and get some fresh air._

Of course Katniss would find fresh air to be the solution—although, Madge thinks, she's probably right. And she probably wants her to find something to do so she'll leave her alone. Fair enough. Madge bundles herself up and prepares herself for the cold, pulling a beanie over her ears and a wrapping one of Katniss' handmade scarves around her. She goes for a walk around the building and down by the shops, picking up some groceries and another bottle of wine. When she sees Marvel's perfectly coiffed hair and thick-rimmed glasses coming her way, she successfully dodges him, making a quick turn into another shop and hiding behind a shelf. She watches him pass by, look confused, and then turn coolly around like he didn't just chase down some girl, and when he's gone, Madge sighs in relief.

She realizes she ducked into the family-run drug store on the street when she finds herself staring at methods of birth control. Well. She won't be needing that. She starts to leave and get back on her way when she hears a smart snicker from behind her. While she dreads turning around again, she does so only to find the source of more embarrassment. She doesn't even wait to hear what rude comment he has to say and exits promptly when she learns the laughter came from Gale Hawthorne, the one other person she wanted to avoid.

Great advice, Katniss.

…

When she gets back inside, she puts her groceries away and decides to go for a long hot shower to warm herself up again. She also may have broken a sweat carrying her bags and trying to make it home—and away from the public—in record time. She slips into some fresh PJs and lets her hair air dry knowing that she's on her own again tonight. Turning the news on, she hears more about the upcoming snow storm and figures then is the right time to crack open the bottle of wine; if she's going to be stuck inside without electricity she better start drinking now.

She sort of regrets all that when there's a knock on the door just as she sits down to eat dinner in front of the TV. Madge worries Marvel hunted her down and wants to talk about obscure Japanese horror films from the '90s or something else she knows nothing about. Opening the door to Gale, she should have known it could and would be much worse than that.

"What are you doing here?" she snaps, apparently not caring about getting into it with him today.

His arms are crossed in front of him and he looks just as pained as she feels, which is probably why he doesn't even flinch at her greeting. "Always a pleasure."

She wouldn't mind shutting the door on him, but he manages to position himself so he's basically half in, half out and peering around her. "Honestly, what—"

"Trust me, I didn't trek through the snow to come say hi to my favourite princess. I'm supposed to check on you."

"What?" she asks again. He barges in and she's forced to let him through. She watches him walk around the apartment before she realizes, "Did Katniss send you?"

When he's done making his rounds he stops short in front of her and shoves his hands in his pockets. "She said something about a guy named Marvin and being worried about your sanity. But it looks all clear to me and you look… normal, so I'll tell her you're fine."

Normal. She knew she should have thrown a robe on before she answered the door in a camisole and silk pajama pants. He probably hates her Tweety Bird slippers, too.

Sidestepping her, he makes for the door; Madge lets him go. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. You can tell her I'm great," she adds as she turns around, following him to shut the door. "I've made almost eighty cookies and a scarf and bought some groceries and wine and I'm working on a song… It needs some work but it's in progress… Yes, I'm just _fantastic_, actually, so thanks for stopping by, but there was no need."

Gale stops from leaving in the hallway and brings a hand up to rub at his face, looking conflicted. "That's what I thought," he must say to himself, because Madge has no idea what he's talking about. He continues to rub at his chin and looks down the hallway before sighing and breezing past her into the apartment once more.

Before she can stop him or question his behaviour, he whirls around producing a bottle of Jack Daniels from his coat and holds it up to her. "That's why I brought this. Got any glasses?"

Madge wrinkles her nose. "I don't drink whiskey."

"Well, _I_ do, and I'm gonna need it if I'm staying in with you tonight. Glasses?" he asks again, moving into the kitchen. Madge gapes—she doesn't even remember inviting him in, nevermind asking him to stay—but follows behind. Once she's caught up she can see Gale's found the glasses and takes two down from the cupboard. She leans against the counter beside him, shaking her head.

"You really don't need to stay. In fact, you are _more _than welcome to go."

Pouring whiskey into the two glasses, Gale shrugs. "Gotta stay for this one now that I've poured the drinks." He holds one of them up to her and when she hesitates, he adds, "Just think of it as me doing a favour for Katniss. She didn't want you to be alone."

That makes her feel bad, so she takes the drink out of his hand though she has no intention of drinking it. She still has her wine sitting by her plate on the coffee table. "I was just sitting down to dinner…" she looks over at the TV. Pathetic. Nodding towards the stove, she tells him, "There's still some on the burner. Enjoy."

"So now you're feeding me? Huh…"

She groans, heading back to the couch. "If you're going to stay, you can eat. Otherwise, shut up."

When Gale drops down beside her with a plateful of her stir fry and having shed his jacket, she thinks it might be just a little bit better than being by herself.

…

Madge (6:44pm):  
_I'm fine. Well, I was, until you had your best friend show up to check up on me._

Madge (6:44pm):  
_He's decided to plant his butt on our couch and is criticizing the show I'm watching. So, thanks._

Katniss (6:50pm):  
_What show?_

Madge (6:52pm):  
_Gossip Girl._

Katniss (6:53pm):  
_You deserve that._

Katniss (6:53pm):  
_He's probably just as lonely as you are. Let him stay._

She starts to type out a response, getting as far as 'I'm not lonely' when Gale speaks from the other side of the couch. "Leave Katniss alone."

"Who says I'm texting Katniss?"

He glances over at her, eyebrows raised. "Oh? Is it that Marvin guy?" She thinks he's teasing her, but he looks away too quick to know for sure.

"Marvel," she corrects, adding disdainfully, "And God, no."

He smirks over his glass and takes a pull of his whiskey. She could hit him. "Then Catnip can wait to hear about how much fun we're having. Not that I care that she and Mellark get the alone time, but she deserves a break."

He's right and it's annoying, but she tosses her phone on to the table face down and eyes him as if to say, 'Happy now?' He just looks back to the TV screen in response and she leans back into the couch, watching rich kids traipse around the Upper East Side of New York City.

"This definitely isn't what I had in mind for _my_ break," she mumbles. Her dad was supposed to be here, and she would show him all around the university and her new city. They were going to travel a few towns over and see the symphony and have a pre-Christmas dinner together before he would fly home. Sitting on a couch with someone who hates her watching old television shows made for teenagers wasn't part of the plan.

Gale takes a long drink from his glass before he says, "Yeah. It, uh, sucks that your dad couldn't make it." He looks at her and it's the only reason she thinks he's being sincere. "He still might, though, right?"

Madge shrugs. "Yeah, maybe," and it's true, but she's pretty sure it's more of a 'probably not'.

…

"The snow just keeps coming down, folks, with no end in sight for now. Be prepared for power outages throughout the night and a lot more snow on the ground in the morning… We advise against leaving your homes as the roads will be icy so cuddle up to your loved ones and—"

Madge turns the channel, landing on a seasonal showing of National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. She pouts at the screen and takes a long sip of her wine, choosing to ignore the man sitting on her couch.

"Well," he says in a gruff sigh. "If we're stuck together, we should make this interesting."

She turns a quirked eyebrow towards him and watches as he leans forward, resting his hands on his knees. "How so?"

He pulls his bottle of whiskey towards him and nods at her wine on the table, then at the TV. "Drink anytime some thing goes wrong."

Madge eyes him carefully before she readjusts herself on the sofa, twisting her wine glass in her hands. "Or anytime Chevy Chase mentions his bonus."

Gale laughs, nodding as he pours more whiskey for himself. "That's the spirit." His face looks so uncharacteristically carefree for a moment that she keeps watching him to see what happens when it disappears—but he looks more relaxed than she ever remembers. He notices her prolonged staring not much later and turns to her in question but she shakes her head and returns to the movie. 'Must be the whiskey,' she realizes. Good. He should loosen up. Those angry eyebrows could use a break, too.

…

"You're joking!" Madge cries as she comes back to the couch from the kitchen, fresh glass of wine in hand. When she sits back down she's unaware of how much closer she gets to Gale than before until his hand brushes her shoulder along the back of their seats where he stretches his arm. "_Nobody_ thinks Home Alone 2 was better than the first."

"Okay, maybe not, but it's not _bad_," he argues, eyes on the screen. "It has its moments—"

As he's talking the lights go down, bringing all noise with them. The TV goes black and so does everything else; Madge gasps as she the darkness falls over her.

"Shit," Gale curses. "Candles?"

His hand grazes her bare shoulder again as he stands from his seat, which Madge can only register due to the loss of his body heat on her side and the weight coming off the couch. She blinks, waiting for her natural instincts to kick in and adjust to the lack of light. "Um," she wavers. "Yeah, I'll get them."

She reaches around in front of her to find the table and carefully sets her wine down then stands up herself. Gale seems to be waiting on her to make a move but she hesitates, suddenly unsure of the furniture in her apartment. She's also never been a huge fan of the dark, but that's something she's going to keep to herself.

"Here," Gale says roughly, and then his hand taps her arm, suggesting that she take it. When she does, the warmth of his calloused hand is actually quite the comfort as it claps around hers.

"They're this way," she tells him, pushing towards her room. Groping around the surface of her dresser she finds her collection of scented candles and lights a few of them with the matches she keeps nearby (not an easy task). Madge thinks it's funny how much of a relief it is to see again, even if it's only the space in front of her and Gale Hawthorne's face—which really isn't a _bad_ sight to see, necessarily...

She gives two to Gale and takes two for her own and they make it back into the living room without accident. The candles are placed about the room and while it's still dark, the dim light of the flickering flames is much more comfortable than the pitch black from before.

"Gingerbread, apple cinnamon, and vanilla bean," Madge shakes her head at the fragrances filling the air. "At least they're somewhat festive."

Gale sniffs as he lands on the couch once more and grabs his drink again. "Artificial, but they'll do. Nothing beats the real aroma of Christmas desserts."

Madge burrows herself into the corner of her seat, getting comfortable underneath an old threadbare quilt she'd offered to him earlier. "I guess, but neither of us are getting that this year, are we?" Gale tries to protest, but she shakes her head once more and tips back her wine, laughing mirthlessly. "He's not coming. It's fine, just… Even if they can't afford it, at least you know your family wants to see you."

Across from her, Gale pauses, closing his eyes and clenches his jaw; he looks pained, but not like he had been when she first opened the door to him. He takes a deep breath and faces her, sighing, "You know I'm an idiot, right?"

"What?" she squeaks, confused.

He really doesn't seem to want to talk about whatever he's talking about but he continues on, hands resting flat on his jeans. "Whatever I said… I didn't mean it. Your dad _wanted_ to see you. Of course he did, Madge."

She bites her lip and watches him from the corner of her eye. He looks like he's trying to apologize. It doesn't really surprise her that he can't even say the words, but she wouldn't mind hearing them. Kind of like how she didn't mind hearing him call her by her first name for probably the first time ever. "You're not an idiot… You just—sometimes you say some pretty hurtful things, Gale."

"I know."

"My life isn't perfect like you think it is. I'm not a _princess_," she mocks his earlier pet name. Then she quips, "If I was, you'd be treating me like one."

Gale smirks at that and nods his head appreciatively. He draws imaginary lines on the palms of his hands in front of him and shrugs, getting serious again. "I'm sorry for being a jerk. I guess I kind of lose my head around you."

And there's that whiskey talking. Well, it's either the whiskey or the wine getting to her head and making her think that's what she heard. She coughs uncomfortably, too stunned to do anything else, and Gale moves quickly to take another sip of whiskey. "Because you're infuriating. Obviously," he adds.

"Obviously," she repeats and finds she's totally grateful for the dark—it means her blushing cheeks aren't so visible.

He shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair, brushing it back from his face. "I mean, there's more to it—"

Madge starts to giggle at how totally weird he's being when there's a loud tinkling sound that she identifies as an incoming text message on her phone. "Sorry," she says as she goes to grab it. She gasps when her phone lights up. "It's Marvel. Wants to know if my lights are out and if I'd like him to walk over for company." Gale seems to groan under his breath, mumbling something about cookies as he heads into the kitchen. She laughs, covering her mouth. "He has _vintage board games_." How very necessary to note that they're vintage.

Gale returns, cookie in hand, and plops back down on the sofa. "Guy thinks he's gonna walk through the snow storm for a girl… Damn, Undersee, the hipster must really like you."

Madge replies with raised eyebrows and, "Didn't you do the same thing?"

His face actually falls and a moment later he shoves her cookie into his mouth. "It wasn't a storm yet…" he mumbles through his chewing, causing her to cringe. He swallows and washes the treat down with a swig of his whiskey. "_Wow_, you can cook but you definitely can't bake."

"Thanks," she rolls her eyes, typing out a reply to Marvel.

Gale leans over the coffee table again and pours himself another drink. "Are you telling him that I got it covered?" When he finishes, he glances over at her in question and brings his glass to his lips.

"Do you?" She looks away from her cellphone to Gale and smiles, which he returns, ad it makes her forget what she was going to write out to Marvel next. "Are you having more?" she asks in reference to the whiskey in his hand.

"Yeah," he shrugs. "If we're going to be stuck in the dark all night, may as well. You should join me." He slides his bottle toward her and she grimaces. "You haven't even tried it!"

Finishing up her text back to Marvel, she tosses her phone away again and yanks the untouched glass he poured her earlier towards her. He smiles victoriously and she tips it back. The alcohol burns down her throat and she shudders, slamming the glass back down. "That's not going to sit well with the wine," she mutters.

Gale chuckles and continues to drink his with ease. "Probably not, no."

And she's already feeling all that wine, so the whiskey certainly isn't going to help. She wonders if Gale feels as tipsy as she does. He's a lot bigger than her and has more experience drinking but he's also had way more of a harder drink than her. It makes her feel like she needs to catch up a little, so she grabs the wine bottle by its neck and takes a swig.

"Woah," he comments while watching her, laughing when she wipes her mouth. "Definitely not a princess. Okay, I get it—you okay?"

"Yeah," she nods heartily. Shrugging, she looks at him with uncertainty. "Just… What now?"

Gale slouches into the pillows. "Huh. Hadn't thought about that…" She nods again, slower this time, wondering what they can do with all this time together. She's kind of drawing a blank. She doesn't even know what Gale likes to do, so…

"Oh!" she exclaims, moving closer and turning to face him. "You were wrong about me, and I was wrong about you, so maybe we should get to know each other…" As she nears the end of her sentence, her confidence in her idea drops greatly and she feels a blush on her cheeks. She probably sounds like a silly little girl—or worse, like she's trying to hit on him. He probably doesn't even want to get to know her at this point.

Gale is totally judging her, which she can see quite clearly (even through the hazy dark) by his furrowed brow and narrowed eyes. She's about to tell him to forget it, dumb idea, when he just asks, "How were you wrong about me?"

Well, that's worse than being judged for her bad idea and her red cheeks agree. "Oh. I just, um…" She's stalling, and if she can tell, then so can he. "Okay, you may have said some awful things, but I've thought some towards you, too." She smiles sheepishly. "I thought you were—well, an asshole."

"An _asshole_?" Why is he laughing?

"Turns out," she continues, "You aren't. Not entirely."

He sits up a little more and leans on his shoulder against the back of the couch to face her. He's smirking as he crosses his arms in front of his chest, which looks stupidly good on him. "And what makes you say that?"

She shrugs again; her smile is gentle and a little bashful. "You're here because you didn't want to be alone, either, right? You miss your family. And you _came_ because Katniss asked you. You care about the people you love." When she thinks about it, it's actually pretty obvious and she's certainly noticed it before. But then he would always follow up some nice action with something idiotic and she would forget that he called his little sister from the bar to let her cry to him about her pet fish that passed away, or that he sings Christmas carols with his family over Skype. She never expected that from the burly, brooding Gale Hawthorne, but in reality, he's kind of a softie when it comes to his family and friends. "Besides, you stayed with me to make me feel better. And you called me a good cook. _And_ you have an opinion on the Home Alone movies. Not an asshole."

To that, he kind of just nods in response and mumbles, "Not an asshole. Good to hear."

"Yeah," she whispers, not really sure what else to say. She feels the need to take a big breath for some reason, so she does—and feels oddly relieved to have talked to Gale like _that_. Seeing as how it's something that never happens, it feels pretty good to just get along with him.

"Since we're getting to know each other, I have another question for you then," he pipes up when she doesn't say anything else. His eyebrows are raised when she looks back at him. "You and Marvel? That a thing?"

She scoffs. "No. He just wants me to be interested in him, which I'm not." Then she narrows her eyes at him. "Why? Who's asking?" If one of Gale's friends wants him to hook her up with them, she's going to have to put an end to that right away. Delly tried to set her up and that was just a mess.

Gale looks away from her, shaking his head with some amusement. "No, I just—Now that I'm not an asshole, you might listen to me when I say that he sounds like a loser, Madge."

"Yeah, well," she sighs. She's handling it. Madge watches as Gale reaches for his drink again and she decides it's her turn to ask a question. "Are you drunk yet?"

He throws what's left in his glass back and smiles at her question. "Little bit."

When he leans back into the couch, she bites back a smile of her own. "Me, too."

And that's how they end up kissing on her couch by candlelight, smelling of holiday desserts and tasting of wine and whiskey. When the need for air becomes too much, Madge pulls away and asks, breathlessly, "Was that a favour for Katniss, too?"

He chuckles and tangles his fingers deeper into her hair. He really seems to like it, which she hadn't expected. He always seemed to prefer brunettes. "Definitely not. That was all for me."

She pulls him back to her by the soft flannel of his shirt and he has to plant his arm beside her so as not to fall on her—but she kind of likes that idea, so she does her best to stretch out along the couch and brings him with her. Gale smiles into her kisses; it's a good feeling—a strange, unfamiliar one, but a good one nonetheless—to be the one he's kissing. When he starts towards her jaw and down her neck, the feeling turns on her when she realizes that he's been here with other girls, and a good number of them… And they've been drinking. And she's the closest girl he can grab. Not that she doesn't appreciate the way his lips land on her skin (and she really does), but what is she doing? Until tonight, she was pretty sure they hated one another… And now they're making out in her living room because there's nothing better to do?

When Gale's lips hover above hers again, she—reluctantly—pushes him away. She honestly doesn't know what to say and he just blinks at her until she pushes against his chest until they're both sitting up again. "Madge? Did I do something?"

She shakes her head, feeling dazed. "No. Gale, we can't _do that_."

"Why not?" he asks, looking as dazed as she feels. He's not trying to argue with her; he just really wants to know why.

"Katniss? Our friends? You hated me—maybe you still do—and I don't know, just _how_ is this a good idea?" Madge rambles on, eventually stopping to worry her lip. She slides away from Gale and feels herself wobble as she starts to stand. Oh, there's that, too.

Carefully turning to face him, she finds him watching her with a worried, confused expression. "'Hated you'?" he mouths, looking like the words don't taste right in his mouth. While he struggles to wrap his head around what had been their reality just hours before, she presses a hand to her temple.

"The candles are giving me a headache, so… I'm just going to go to bed." Madge fidgets in her spot. "Are you okay on the couch?"

She waits until he nods to leave him with the quilt from earlier. Gale looks way too shocked by it all which means it might be good for him to receive a little rejection. Although, that really wasn't her point at all, and when she slides into her cold bed all by herself, she feels worse than she thought she would. That, she can't blame on the wine or the whiskey.

…

Gale's gone in the morning, which she's actually glad for since she looks a little bit like hell and feels worse than she looks. It hadn't really seemed like she'd drank _that_ much, but she figures all that sugar she's ingested over the past few days is catching up with her.

It has nothing to do with the fact that she made out with Gale Hawthorne and then made him sleep on the couch.

So Gale is gone, but he leaves a note that reads, 'Had to work. I made coffee at 8:00, might still be hot for you. Hope you feel better than I do.'

It makes her smile because it's nice, not because he's Gale, and she goes to pour herself a cup of coffee from the pot he brewed. This also tells her that the power is back on. She flicks the TV on to the weather channel and learns that the snow is melting almost as fast as it came. She ignores the irony of that as well as the final comment on his note that says, 'P.s. we should talk.'

…

She ignores all that for two whole days—adding a call from Gale and a text from Katniss ('_How was the grump?'_) to that list. After that, her mind is occupied enough to forget it anyway and so is her apartment, because her dad actually keeps his promise to try his best and shows up as a surprise later that week.

They travel to the city and get a hotel room there for a few days, as originally planned, to see her symphony and explore the area. He tells her about her mother and how upset she was not to be able to come, even after she'd calmed down from the attack that caused him to miss the first few flights out. It makes Madge sad to think that her mother could still be haunted by early family tragedies and her own sickness to miss so much of her daughter's life, but she realizes that it's probably just as hard on her mom.

"Are you and mom okay?" she asks one night when they're having dinner at a nice restaurant that makes her feel as every bit of the princess Gale thinks—or, thought she was. She's really not worried about her parents, but it feels natural to ask.

"You know I love your mother," her father replies as he carves at his steak. He looks at her curiously. "Why on Earth do you ask?"

Okay, maybe not so natural. "No reason. Just asking. I think if you and mom were to ever… fall out of love, I would know for sure that there's no chance for me." She smiles sweetly. "Everyone wants the type of love you two have."

Her father chuckles, which, to her, seems odd. "I suppose we're lucky. Of course, your mother wouldn't even look at me when we first met. I guess that makes _me_ the lucky one."

"I didn't know that," Madge remarks, taken aback. That is new information to her. She'd always been told it was love at first sight.

"I was the ambitious dreamer type from a middle-class family. I didn't fit into her world of old money traditionalists. Her father hated me," he laughs again, clearly coming across some forgotten memories. He turns his smile to her. "But it all worked out in the end, didn't it?"

Sure, but that doesn't stop her from seeing her parents in a whole new light—and in turn, seeing _love_ in a whole new light. If her mother hadn't given her father the slightest chance, who knew where they'd be?

Madge sighs. "Daddy, there's someone I think we should invite to our last dinner before you go…"

…

Her father flies back home a week before Christmas to spend it with his wife, so the night before he leaves, they plan for their pre-Christmas dinner to be shared between the two of them. When Gale accepts her invitation, it becomes three.

She's getting ready to steam some vegetables for their meal when he knocks at the door. Her father gets it and Madge is glad she catches the look of surprise on her face as he opens the door.

"Gale Hawthorne," he announces, making room for him to enter. Her father is a tall man, but Gale still has him beat by a few inches. "What a surprise. Madge, you didn't tell me you were inviting Gale."

"Mayor Undersee," Gale says lowly, joining them inside. There's a reason she chose not to say anything to her father. Back at home, Gale was a bit of a troublemaker while her father was mayor. She remembers Gale causing her dad a lot of grief when it came to vandalism and petty crime around the county.

"You don't have to call me mayor anymore, son." Her father closes the door and she's relieved to see a smile on his face. When he looks over at her with a twinkle in his eye—well, that's not as welcome a sight. He's totally on to her. "Please, let me take your coat."

Gale sheds his black jacket and lets her father hang it up; in the mean time, his gaze slides over to her in the kitchen and she blushes, looking away. Perhaps it's because she rarely ever sees him looking so put-together, but the dark green button-up and grey slacks look really good on him. She's trying not to notice too much.

"I brought wine." He holds up a bottle she recognizes before placing it on the kitchen table. "I know it's Madge's favourite."

It is, and it's funny that he knows it because it wasn't even the type she was drinking when he was here last.

"Ah, that's very kind of you, Gale," her father thanks him and grabs three wine glasses from her cabinets while she keeps her attention on cooking their dinner. "Now, I didn't know you and my Madge were friends. This girl doesn't tell her father anything. How did that happen?"

Perhaps she should have thought this through.

…

As it turns out, the dinner is actually a success. Her turkey (small, but good enough for three) wasn't too dry and she thinks she can say she's finally perfected the family recipe for cranberry sauce. Aside from the food, the company gets along, too, which was really her main concern.

Actually, her father and Gale hit it off a little too well, she might say. After they clear the plates and sit back down to finish their wine, they start to debate politics. Madge thinks she's about to witness a disaster and goes into the kitchen to start washing the dishes. She worries they've killed each other when it goes silent for a few moments but then she hears laughter over the sound of her running water and she wonders what the hell kind of alternate universe she's living in until they both join her in the kitchen to help.

"I'm almost done, actually," she tells them, looking over the last few pots she has to do. That's the nice thing about cooking for a small amount of people: less clean up. "Isn't there that basketball game on tonight? Why don't you turn it on?"

"Oh, Magpie, there must be something we can do to help." Her father shakes his head and she can just see the wheels turning in his head as he looks around the kitchen. Something clicks and he smiles. "How about I take out the garbage—tomorrow's your garbage day, no?—and Gale here can help you dry those dishes. Least we can do."

There's no way she's arguing with him, seeing as he's already pulling the bag out of its container and making for the door, so she just grinds an agreement through her teeth.

She's avoiding what she wants to do, has to do, and she's not entirely sure why. But when she turns around to find Gale peering down at her, she maneuvers around him back into the living room to check for any dishes left behind. He follows behind her and starts, in an exasperated breath, "Madge, I…"

She feels pretty terrible for making this harder for him, so she decides to give the guy a break. She turns around quick, feeling her dress swish around her knees, and he stops just short of her. Swiftly, she reaches up to lay a kiss on his cheek. He doesn't seem to expect it. "Thank for coming tonight," she says. "Looks like you impressed the mayor."

"I've always impressed him," Gale retorts playfully. "He offered me all sorts of jobs back in the day, probably to get me off the streets but still… It was more important that I impressed the daughter." She's blushing again. "So how'd I do?"

Madge smiles softly, looking down at her feet. "You never had to impress her—though, the tailored slacks and the wine—very nice touch." She gives him an appreciative nod and he laughs, which looks even better on him than the pants. Madge takes a deep breath and looks directly up at him. "Look, I've been pretty silly, ignoring you these past few days after…"

"After we made out and you ran off? Yeah. I felt like an ass, Madge." He clenches his jaw and looks apologetic. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"No, I know that," she nods emphatically. "It wasn't you. I just got insecure or something. To be honest, I always kind of wondered what that would be like… Then it was happening and I couldn't really keep up with how we went from hating each other to kissing in the dark."

"You wondered what it would be like to kiss me?" Gale asks, totally _loving _it, giving her pause. She hadn't meant to admit that, so she just hopes he's grinning like that because he wanted to hear that. Seems unlikely until he shakes his head out of disbelief and continues, "Can I tell you something?"

On her nod, he finishes, "I never hated you."

Her brow furrows and it's like everything he ever said to her replays in her mind. The sting of his words is still there and she finds it hard to believe that he felt otherwise. "But all the comments—"

"I was an _idiot_," he repeats from their powerless night together. "There was frustration and anger and all that good stuff, yeah. But it wasn't about _you_. I was just resentful, coming from a poor family, and I could take it out on you." Madge opens her mouth to defend herself but he stops her. "I shouldn't have, but it didn't hurt that I put you on a pedestal that made you unreachable and unattainable. Am I making any sense?"

Strangely, Madge finds that he is, and she tells him so. "So now that I'm not the princess you thought I was, and you're not the asshole I thought you were—what now, Hawthorne?"

Gale pulls her flush against him and she giggles (not something she ever thought she'd do in the presence of this man) as he says, "Well, we're not going to make out over on that couch again."

"No?" she questions, and she can see him rethinking the statement before he replies, definitively, "No. Your dad's going to be back soon and I really don't think that's a sight he'd want to see."

She sighs blissfully, knowing that he's absolutely right. "Then what _are_ we going to do?"

"I was thinking that I'd take you on a date. No fathers and no drinking games." There's an air of seriousness when he looks down at her, despite the flirty nature of his suggestion. "What do you think?"

…

After her father flies home, Katniss and Peeta arrive home a few days early upon hearing about a bad bout of weather headed for the area they were staying in. They both come back to Katniss and Madge's apartment after the long drive and Madge welcomes them both back with big hugs.

"I wish I could stay and hang out with you guys, but I'm actually about to go out," she apologizes, plugging her other earring in as she stands with them.

The couple look between each other and Katniss looks surprised when she explains, "We didn't know you had plans."

"And I didn't know you were coming home prematurely—but we can chat later, can't we? I have a date." Madge looks at the clock on the wall; any minute now, he should be here and she's still not quite ready. So she whips back into her room where she can hear Katniss yelp, "Not _Marvel_, Madge!" from the living room.

A moment later, there's a knock on the door and she hears Peeta greet Gale, who (probably) bypasses him to welcome back his best friend.

Then: "Gale, how did you know we were coming back early? We only told Madge."

"Wait a second…"

At that point, Madge finishes zipping up her boots and joins the three of them in the living room, but only long enough to grab onto Gale's elbow and peel out of the apartment with him in tow. "Bye, guys! Talk to you later!"

What's left is dead silence until Katniss looks over at Peeta and hesitantly asks, "What just happened?"

Peeta shrugs. "I really wish I knew."


End file.
